


not with a whimper

by braigwen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Crack Treated Seriously, Fix-It, It's A Serious Story But. Unexplained Time-Travel., Not Really Prose But Not Poetry Either I Think, OG Angsty Teen Encounters Current Title-Holder, Time Travel, possibly???, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 08:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15636747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braigwen/pseuds/braigwen
Summary: How to fix the galaxy? Throw in a teenage Mace Windu, of course.





	not with a whimper

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the prevalence of Time-Travel in the SW fandom, I've yet to see one starring my man Mace, so... DIY I guess.

A scared, confused young man wakes from a nightmare, and finds himself on a balcony in uptown Coruscant. What the nightmare was doesn’t matter; it’s not important. It never dooms the galaxy. He stands, he looks around him, and -

He is a Jedi, so he has no issued commandeering an airtaxi to take him to the Temple, even if the vehicle is far too worn and broken-down for such a modern, sleek model.

The Temple feels empty, not at all like it was that morning. He stumbles his way into a hangar, nods to the driver, and searches through his pockets for something to tip them with. He doesn’t find any spare credit chips, or even an energy capsule, but he does find that his robes, while his own, are scorched, and smell like ozone. Like lightning.

The airtaxi drives away, the driver irritated, and the scared, confused, young man turns - and finds himself face-to-face with another. The stranger, a pale-skinned human with shoulder-length curls of blond-burnt hair, wears dark leather robes and a familiar waking terror upon his face.

“I’ve finally gone mad,” the stranger mutters to himself; then, barely more loudly, a hoarse, terrified whisper, “if you’re a vision, does Palpatine kill you?”

He feels himself blinking, even more bewildered than the stranger. Unsure how to address him, he resorts to the usual term for unknown Jedi, trying to look a little less like a skittish Padawan himself. “Who’s Palpatine, Master?”

The stranger stiffens at the title, like it was a word that he both loathed and longed for.


End file.
